


a whirlwind for us three

by yanak324



Series: love on the brain [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Light Grief, Mention of Character Death, Pregnancy, Reflections on Home, and family, and parenthood, basically Gendry comes home and comforts his wife, gendry POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanak324/pseuds/yanak324
Summary: There’s a faint glare coming from the television, but it’s muted, and the delicious smells from the kitchen are completely overridden by the obvious absence of his wife.Gendry, Arya, and a quiet moment at the end of a long day.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: love on the brain [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510148
Comments: 67
Kudos: 141





	a whirlwind for us three

**Author's Note:**

> This story should be titled "what happens when Yana doesn't write any of her WIPs" but such is life. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it on a gloomy Friday afternoon. Hope everyone is staying safe, and as per usual, I own nothing, except my pesky muse who I might put up for adoption if she keeps being this unfocused and spastic.

For a long time, home was a foreign concept to Gendry. 

It wasn’t a place or a person or an even a feeling he could attribute to anything.

He’d been too young to remember his mother when she died – only faint memories of flaxen hair and a soothing touch but not much else. 

And as lovely as his foster homes had been, he never spent too much time in them – preferring the library, or school, or even Tobho’s, who had been gracious enough to offer him the studio above the shop after Gendry aged out of the system. 

It wasn’t until he met Arya that he understood the meaning of home. Understood what it meant to have a safe place, somewhere to fall back to on the days that life was simply too much to handle on your own. 

If his life had any defining moments, Arya coming into the shop, a thin sheen of sweat on her face from having pushed her stalled bike up a hill, would be at the top of that list. 

Gendry had been so transfixed by her, it had taken him a solid ten seconds to even blurt out a greeting. And even then, it had been nothing more than a grunt. 

It had done the trick though.

Arya smiled, well more like smirked at him, but the glint in her eyes had been there, and her expressive eyebrow had quirked just a smidgen and Gendry instantly knew he was a goner. 

She’d stolen his heart that day and instead of giving it back, taught him slowly, over time, what it meant to have a home, to have a family. 

The rare times he reflected on this, he always found it ironic. 

That this fiercely independent, highly determined, and at times absolutely unstoppable force of nature had been the one to show him that it was okay to rely on other people; that not everyone let you down; and that you didn’t actually have to do everything on your own. 

And though their upbringing could not be more different – her growing up as one of five and him with virtually no family to speak of, Gendry learned quickly that Arya could feel just as lonely and adrift in the world as he did. 

And he promised himself he’d always do his best to be there for her, in much the same way she’d always been there for him. 

Over the years, it’d become nearly second nature to him, so much so that he didn’t notice it half the time. 

But tonight, as soon as he lets himself into their apartment, he knows something is off. 

There’s a faint glare coming from the television, but it’s muted, and the delicious smells from the kitchen are completely overridden by the obvious absence of his wife.

He finds her in their room, perched on the edge of the bed.

She’s facing away from him, but the way she sits, back ramrod straight, eyes trained on an unseen spot in front of her, confirms to him that she’s not alright. 

And though he’s certain she picked up on his presence even before he came through the front door, greeting her like this still seems like it would startle her, so instead, he walks over and sits down beside her. 

The mattress dips beneath his weight, but Arya doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as breathe differently as he leans into her warmth and glances down at her lap. 

“Whatcha got there?” 

The question seems to pull her from her reverie, but instead of looking up at him and acknowledging him with her usual smile, or perhaps even a kiss, Arya gazes down as well, tightening her hold on the fabric in her hands. 

“Mum sent more stuff, and I found this at the bottom of the box.” 

The item in question is a faded blanket made of soft gray material that upon closer inspection has the faintest outline of wolves embroidered into it. Even in the dim light of their bedroom, Gendry can see that it was well worn and well used, and even before Arya confirms it, he knows it means something to her. 

“It used to be mine when I was a baby.” 

“Ah,” he replies lightly, “it looks soft. Nice of your mum to send it.” 

“Yeah, it is.” She agrees, a little too quickly though, and he can tell by the slight edge in her tone that maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say.

Instead of trying to course correct with his words – because really they’ve never been his strong suit – he circles her waist gently with his arm, not close enough to be considered a hug, but just enough that she knows he’s physically there, and he’ll embrace her the second she needs it. 

The action seems to relax her somewhat, her shoulders sagging just slightly as she lets out a breath, and then she finally looks over at him and he has to physically restrain himself against the fine sheen of unshed tears that illuminate her gray eyes, making them stand out in a way that never fails to take his breath away. Though for very different reasons at the moment. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks then, because there’s no point of skirting around the obvious, not when he so desperately wants to wipe the look of barely concealed anguish from her slender face.

“Nothing really. It just reminded me of my dad. When I had bad dreams, he used to wrap me up in it and tell me how the wolves would protect me from the monsters, and then I just thought about how much I miss him and well – “ 

She shakes her head, as if she can will the feelings away, and really if anyone can, it’s his stubborn, determined wife, but even someone as fearless as her needs a hand every once in a while, and he’s lucky enough to be that person for her. 

So while she grumbles about stupid hormones and how this kid inside her is already turning her into a blithering mess, Gendry reaches out and catches an errant tear with his thumb. 

A hint of relief rushes through him when Arya leans into his touch, and he unfurls his palm in response, cradling her cheek and letting the warmth of her skin anchor him to the moment. 

“It’s okay to miss him, you know.” 

It might be a cheap platitude at this point, but it needs to be said, because he knows from personal experience that losing a parent never gets easier, and the pain never really fades. It just transforms into a dull ache, slinking into the back of your mind only to spring up in moments of vulnerability or when you least expect it. 

And unlike him, Arya lost her father as an adult – not even two years ago – so it makes all the sense in the world that this specific relic from her childhood would have such an impact on her. 

Pregnancy or not. 

“I do,” she pulls him from his thoughts, and Gendry is slightly relieved to find that when she locks eyes with him again, they’re startling clear and dry, and yet – 

“But sometimes, it just fucking sucks.” 

And yeah it does, and he’s not going to sugarcoat it for her, because that’s not what they do. 

It’s not the deal they made with each other, so instead of saying anything else, he pulls her closer into his embrace, and exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding when she goes willingly. 

“He would have made a kick ass grandpa.” 

Her words are muffled by his chest but Gendry hears them loud and clear; and finds himself nodding instinctively. 

“Yeah, he would have.” 

And he lets his hand drop to her middle; she’s barely showing but it still feels like there’s three of them in this bubble, this little home they’ve built together. 

It’s suddenly imperative for him to remind Arya of that, to remind her of all the good in their life, the life they’ve built together. 

“But luckily, this kid won’t have a shortage of aunts and uncles to fawn over her, not to mention your mum –“ 

He’s cut off by Arya’s unexpected laugh and it soothes him in ways that never fail to amaze him, especially when she looks up at him again, and he can see the color returning to her cheeks. 

“She already offered to come up here for a little while after I give birth.” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

Despite not always seeing eye to eye with his mother-in-law, he means it, because at least they’ve always managed to agree on one thing, and that’s Arya’s well-being, which is more top of mind now than ever before. 

Arya must track his thought process – which she’s had ample practice in – because in the next second, her expression softens and then she’s smiling, an honest to Gods smile. Gendry finds himself momentarily lost in her eyes, in the familiarity of her against him, in the way her breath dances along his neck. 

“What I want,” she says, letting go of the blanket to wrap her arms firmly around his waist, “is to sit here for five more minutes, and then go have dinner with my husband and hear about his day.” 

“We can do that.”

He drops a kiss to her forehead before tightening his hold on her, and is rewarded with another smile, one that settles low and warm in his chest, right where Arya rests her cheek again. 

“But I can’t promise it won’t be boring,” he adds a moment later, and can’t help but grin at her response. 

“I’ll take all the boring I can get before this whirlwind arrives.” 

It’s hard to dispute that. Between the two of them – his temper and her energy – there’s no way their daughter will be anything _but_ a whirlwind. 

Not when all he’s pictured since Arya got pregnant – and maybe years before – is a little girl with expressive gray eyes and wild black curls, smiling, laughing, and darting in and out of rooms.

And while that would be terrifying for some, Gendry doesn’t think he’s ever been as excited for anything in his life. Even now, the mere idea wraps him in a sense of calm and stability that he thinks his baby girl will have the greatest time messing up. If she’s anything like her mother.

The thought pulls him back to reality, the one in which Arya is safely tucked against him, back no longer rigid, and not a trace of tears on her face. 

And he feels himself relax too, letting the chaos of the day seep away as they sit quietly together.

And when Arya decides she’s hungry and with a kiss, leaves him in the bedroom to go wash up before dinner, he takes the blanket to the nursery and places it gingerly inside the top drawer of the dresser – the only piece of finished furniture in the room. He leaves the room safe with the knowledge that while his daughter may not meet her grandfather, she’ll always know the comfort and love he represents. 

And Gendry will do his best to fill in the rest, to make sure she’s in want of nothing, and knows that she has a home, the same one her mother has given him.


End file.
